Friday, March 18, 2016

It takes two margaritas to get me drunk. I only get drunk twice a year and I am always with Wendy (my daughter-in-law) when it happens. Today there was four inches of snow. Wendy was busy and the kids were at school, and Wendy treated me to a pedicure. She paid for a uber taxi to take me to the salon and paid for the pedicure and picked me up afterwards and took me to lunch and got me drunk on margaritas. Everything seems possible when you are drunk on margaritas. For one thing, it's the only time I don't feel old.

After lunch we visited the wonderful Boulder Bookstore, half a block away. Cece held my hand very tight on the snowy pavement to stop me falling over. When we got there the kids and Wendy rushed off to the children's section and I stood mesmerised by the bestsellers at the front of the store and nearly bought three, at $25 (before tax) a pop. I wanted When Breath Becomes Air, My Name is Lucy Barton and Billy Collins' Aimless Love. I restrained myself. It was touch and go. Then I dallied with some silly, funny fridge magnets...things I would never think of buying if I were sober. Then I asked at the desk for a book I was looking for and the assistant asked if I would like her to find it for me. "Yes," I said. "Thank you. My daughter-in-law got me drunk on margaritas and I am fit for nothing."